Who Would Have Thought
by kaycross1184
Summary: When the Ministry of Magic passes a law requiring everyone to marry, neither Hermione nor Draco can believe it. As everyone around them pairs up, the begin to realize there's no one left except each other.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Hermione

Hermione Granger was rather pleased with her lot in life. She had a small but cozy flat not far from Diagon Alley. She was the senior member of the House-Elf branch of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, after having completed eight N.E.W.T.S. two years ago. And she was single and loving it.

So when she sat down to coffee and a bagel with the morning issue of the _Daily Prophet_ and read about the latest law to be passed by the Wizengamot, she was understandably irate.

_According to Statute 123.5 section A, unanimously passed by the Wizengamot on Thursday, February 10, 2001, all witches and wizards ages 21 through 50 are required to marry within three months. Henceforth, all witches and wizards must marry by their twenty-first birthday. Marriages must be consummated within three days of the wedding. Furthermore, a child must be conceived within the first year._

_Divorces may not be granted until five years of marriage has been reached. Divorcees must remarry within a year, unless they have attained the age of 50. Widows and widowers will be given a year to grieve and must also remarry within two years, unless they have reached the age of 50._

_The Ministry of Magic has passed this new law due to the sharp decline in birthrates of magical children. In addition, this decline has been accompanied by a marked rise in the birthrates of squibs. If these trends continue, it is estimated that the entire Wizarding population of the British Isles will die out within a century. In order to correct these trends, purebloods may only marry half-bloods and Muggle-borns, and Muggle-borns may only marry pure-bloods or half-bloods. Half-bloods may marry whom they please. Special dispensations may be given for marriages to Muggles._

_Failure to comply with the law will result in a fine of 1000 galleons, as well as the loss of choice in one's spouse as it applies. Further non-compliance will result in incarceration in Azkaban prison and the loss of one's wand._

A marriage law? How could the Ministry actually pass a law requiring people to marry? Hermione fumed. _If they're so concerned about birthrates, they should give incentives to voluntarily marry and have children, instead of coercing the entire community into it, _she grumbled to herself. _Take China, for example._

She went over to the fireplace to Floo-call Harry and Ginny. The law didn't apply to them since they had already married a year ago, but she still wanted to know what they thought. She threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, shouted "Potter Cottage", and stuck her head into the green fire that roared to life.

Hermione saw that Harry was fixing breakfast while Ginny sat at the table resting her feet. She was already five months pregnant. They hadn't wasted any time starting a family. "Morning, Ginny. Morning, Harry," she said. "Have you seen the paper yet?"

"No, not yet. Why what's up?" Ginny asked, reaching for the paper.

Hermione groaned. "I better come over. Give me a sec." She withdrew from the fireplace, ran upstairs to throw on some clothes, and dashed back to the kitchen. Once again she threw some Floo powder in the fire, shouted "Potter Cottage", and then stepped through to her friends' kitchen.

She had only been five minutes, but already Harry and Ginny had read most of the article. They looked up at her as she emerged from the fireplace, identical looks of concern on their faces.

"Well," Harry began. "It may not affect me and Ginny, but I still don't like it. How can the Ministry possibly force people to get married? It has to be illegal or something."

"Yeah, what happens if you haven't found someone you want to marry by the end of the three months?" Ginny chimed in. "Are you just supposed to pull some random Joe off the street and marry him? All to keep from being…" she glanced back down at the paper, "fined and forced into a marriage anyway?"

Hermione shrugged and scowled. "I doubt it's legal, but it'd take months to get the law repealed, and something tells me six months is not enough."

Harry looked at her concernedly. "You are going to try, though, right?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course I am. But I'm not going to get my hopes up." Hermione looked down at the paper again. "So that begs the question: how do I find someone to marry in six months? I mean, I'd at least like to _like_ this unknown man if I'm going to have to marry him and have children with him."

Ginny stood up and went over to the counter. She pulled open a drawer and withdrew a book from it. "Well, we can start by finding out who else this ridiculous law applies to. See who's still single and who's not," she said as she began flipping through what appeared to be an old yearbook from Hogwarts. "Then maybe organize some dinner parties or something for people to get to know each other. You just worry about getting the law undone for now. Harry and I can put together a list of people."

"Right," Hermione said, her mind already focused on the task at hand. "I'd better get to the Ministry then. I'll see you two later."

And with that she turned around and Flooed away.

Three days later, Hermione was despairing of ever succeeding in abolishing the Marriage Law. There was no precedent anywhere in the Ministry records for this law, but there was nothing in the bylaws that forbade it either. She had obtained a copy of the law to see if she could find any loopholes, but so far had turned up nothing. The law was ironclad. She had to hand it to the Ministry, they knew what they were about when they wrote this law.

_Unlike their usual law writing abilities,_ Hermione thought to herself.

She grabbed a quill out of her unruly hair and reached for a stack of papers on her desk. Her work had been piling up around her while she investigated the Marriage Law, and if she didn't get some of it done soon, the head of her department, Amos Diggory, would not be pleased. Further work on the Marriage Law was just going to have to wait.

She sat there for several hours sorting out which house-elves would go to which families on the waiting list—making sure that the families in question had been determined as good families who wouldn't abuse the house-elves—and working on her proposal for house-elf rights that she hoped to submit to the Wizengamot early the next year. Normally, one of her two junior assistants, Jack Sloper and Louise Thompson, would handle the sorting while the other one would pull research for her. However, they were both on their honeymoon, as they had fallen in love and married just two weeks previously. Lucky them.

Just as she was finishing up her second stack of work and about to leave for the evening, Harry came walking into her office.

"Hey, Hermione, how's it going?" he asked.

"I'm okay, Harry. But this Marriage Law is going to be a tough one to crack. They covered everything when they wrote it."

"Great. Well, Ginny and I were wondering if you wanted to come to dinner tonight? You can tell us what you've found out, and we'll tell you what we've been up to."

"Sure," she said, piling some papers and books into her bag. "Dinner would be great."

They walked to the elevators and took them back to the main floor, where they got in line with the other Ministry employees that were queuing for the Floos. In no time at all, they had reached the Floo and arrived in the kitchen at Potter Cottage.

Ginny was stirring a pot at the stove. She looked up and smiled, "Oh, good. You came, Hermione." She walked over and kissed Harry, then hugged Hermione. "Dinner's almost ready if you two want to wash up real quick. I've just got to set everything on the table."

The conversation over dinner was mostly focused on what Hermione had found out regarding the Marriage Law. After she brought them up to date on her current findings, she sighed in frustration. "I'm not ready to give up yet, but I have to say, it's not looking good. In three days of research, I haven't found a single thing to help. That has never happened in all my researches." She slumped back in her chair with a frown on her face.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Well, for now, at least, it looks like you should start considering potential husbands. And on that note, I have good news and bad news for you."

"The good news," Harry said, "is that there are still several people from our year group or close to it who are single."

"The bad news is that most of them are Slytherins," Ginny finished. "Although there are still a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that haven't paired off, and one or two Gryffindors, it seems that there are a lot more single guys than single girls, so you're not going to have much competition to even find a guy close in age to you. If they all pair off, you'll have to start looking for older men, but surely it won't come to that."

Hermione warily asked, "How much older are we talking here?"

"We're talking about men your parents' age," she replied hesitantly.

_Ew_, Hermione thought, then took a deep breath. "Okay, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Who knows, my soul mate may still be out there and available," she joked feebly. "Show me this list."

Ginny produced a length of parchment with multiple names on it. As Hermione scanned the list, she could feel her heart sinking. She saw a few names she recognized, of boys ranging from a couple years older than her to just having finished Hogwarts. But Ginny was right, most of them were Slytherins. Within her own year group, the only ones still available were Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, Chris Rivers, Michael corner, and Stephen Cornfoot—all Ravenclaws, Ron was the only Gryffindor, and from Slytherin there was Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini.

Hermione grimaced as she read the Slytherin names. There were more than twice as many single Slytherins as everyone else put together. She would _not_ marry a Slytherin. Not unless there was no other choice. Surely one of these other guys would be willing to marry her…

She looked back up at Ginny. "Well, start planning, I guess. I have a husband to find." She gave Ginny a fierce look. "But don't invite any Slytherins. I'm not that desperate." _Yet_, she thought to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**So this chapter is a little shorter, but I like it how it is, and the response from the first chapter was more awesome than I had hoped, so as a reward, here's the next chapter! But I haven't started chapter 3 yet, so don't get your hopes up that I'll start posting a chapter a day. Although that would be awesome if I could... Enjoy!**

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Chapter Two: Draco

Draco Malfoy stormed into the breakfast room with a furious look on his face, startling both his parents and causing his mother to almost drop her teacup.

"Draco, what on earth…" his mother said.

"Father, have you seen the paper this morning?" Draco asked, throwing it on top of his father's plate and falling into his seat at the table.

"Why yes, I have. I must say I was astounded to see that the Chudley Canons actually scored a few goals in their game last night," the elder Malfoy replied.

Draco stared at his father in disbelief, his jaw hanging open. "You can't seriously be joking. I couldn't care less about Quidditch right now. Father, they've passed a law requiring everyone to get married!"

"Yes, Draco, I saw that."

"Well, you have to do something. I can't get married! Certainly not to a mudblood," he complained.

"Watch your tongue! And just what do you expect me to do about it?" Lucius asked warily. "We've had this conversation before. I have no influence with the Ministry anymore. We are lucky even to still have the Manor and our vault at Gringott's. If Harry Potter hadn't testified to our actions in that last battle, all three of us would have wound up in Azkaban."

Draco got up and began pacing back and forth. "I know, I know. It's ridiculous, though. Our line has been pureblood for centuries. How can they make us sully the lines now?"

Narcissa spoke up. "You don't have to marry a Muggleborn, Draco. I'm sure we can find a half-blood girl who still has an impeccable pedigree. If she's a powerful enough witch, the line will still breed true. Are any of your old year mates still single?"

"I know Pansy is, but she's a pureblood. I think maybe Tracey Davis is, but I haven't seen her in a couple of years, so I can't be sure. As for any non-Slytherin girls, I wouldn't have the faintest idea who's still single." He sat back down and put his face in his hands. "How am I supposed to find someone to marry in just four months?"

Narcissa smiled at him. "Well, you get to know some girl. I'll ask around, see who's still available, and plan some dinner parties. Surely there is a suitable girl out there for you."

As she called for a house elf to bring her some parchment and a quill, Draco sat thinking about what his mother said about getting to know a suitable girl. Typically, suitable girls for marriage into the family had to be pureblood, preferably Slytherin – although Ravenclaws were also acceptable – and virgins. They had to have a suitable dowry as well. He supposed he could compromise on the dowry. He refused to marry a girl who was not a virgin, however.

As for the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs…No, he could not marry a girl from either of those houses. Hufflepuffs were just too quiet, meek, and goody-goody. And Gryffindors, well, he doubted there was a single Gryffindor out there who would be willing to marry Draco Malfoy, the former Death Eater and king of Slytherin, whose family played host to the Dark Lord's court for more than a year. Never mind that it was not done willingly. Never mind that they were little more than prisoners in their own home.

Draco stood up and kissed his mother's cheek. "Alright, mother. Plan away. Just let me know when to show up."

He headed upstairs to fetch his cloak. He suddenly felt in need of a stiff drink. Perhaps Blaise would welcome company.

"Draco, darling, could you come here please?" his mother called to him from the salon.

Draco stopped in the middle of his step and turned back towards the salon. He hoped she was quick to say whatever she needed to say. If he didn't get a move on, he'd be late to meet with the family accountant. His father insisted that Draco learn everything about the estate so he would be prepared when his father passed on some day.

"Yes, mother?" he said as he approached his mother, who was sitting on a divan surrounded by parchment and cards.

"I'm having a small dinner party for you and your friends next Saturday, and I was wondering if you thought I should include the pureblood girls even if they aren't eligible to marry you."

"Uh, sure," Draco said, not really caring one way or the other. "The more the merrier, right?" He threw his cloak around his shoulders. "Anything else, mother?"

Narcissa frowned at her son. "Draco, I've been asking around and it seems that there are significantly more boys still single than there are girls. At least amongst those close to you in age. I hope you realize that you can't just chose a random girl and expect her to jump at your offer of marriage," she said, waving a list of some sort around. "Even if we disregarded all of our usual standards for a bride, you'll still have quite a bit of competition."

Draco internally rolled his eyes at her. "I'm sure it will be fine, mother. Now, I don't want to be rude, but I am going to be late. Don't hold dinner for me." He gave her a kiss and left before she could say anything else.

A week later, Draco hated to admit it, but his mother had been right. The guest list had included all the single male and female Ravenclaws and Slytherins within two years of Draco's. Nevertheless, only about a dozen girls were present, whereas there were close to twenty boys. His mother's dinner party had been going on for two hours now, and while Draco had managed to get a few minutes with every girl, he had only to spoken to Morag McDougal for more than a few minutes. It was a wasted conversation though, because she was a pureblood as well.

Looking around the room, he saw Pansy talking with a tall, thin blond. He must have been in Ravenclaw since Draco did not recognize him. Blaise was talking to a petite brunette and looked very pleased with himself. Even Theo Nott looked like he was enjoying himself, and he was notorious for being anti-social.

Draco wandered out of the parlor and towards the stairs. His mother would be appalled that he was leaving his own party before the guests did, but he could not find it in himself to care. It wasn't like anyone would notice anyway.

As he passed through the foyer, he noticed a stack of envelopes in his mail basket. Flipping through them, he realized almost all of them were invitations to similar dinner parties and socials. It seemed everyone had the same idea as his mother. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Daphne Greengrass. Ginny Potter. The Patil twins.

He passed as he reread the names on those last two invitations, slightly shocked. Gryffindors had actually included him on a guest list. Not just any Gryffindors, either. Harry Potter and the former Ginny Weasley. The king and queen of Gryffindors. Well, he wasn't yet desperate enough to accept invites from Gryffindors. They would probably mock him or castigate him for his past actions anyway. No thanks. He didn't have to put up with that.

Just as he was heading up the stairs, Draco heard a burst of laughter come from the parlor, reminding him of exactly how few women were available, unless he wanted to marry someone much older than himself. He glanced back down at the invitations in his hand. Maybe he should reconsider the Gryffindor invites. After all, Potter wouldn't have testified for his family if he really hated them, would he? And maybe, just maybe, Miss Right would be there. At the very least, he would get a change of scenery and a few laughs.

He summoned his eagle owl and sent off his RSVP. Between this stupid marriage law, his family's drastic drop in social standing, and now invitations from Gryffindors, his world had been turned completely upside down. He couldn't yet decide if it was a change for the better or the worse, though.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Hermione

Hermione was furious. Furious and miserable. Not because Ginny had invite Slytherins even after being told not to. They had actually been relatively nice, considering the age old hatred between Gryffindor and Slytherin. No, Hermione was furious because no one wanted to talk to her about anything except the face that she and Ron were no longer together. The guys all seemed surprised they weren't already married and afraid to even consider marrying her, as if she was still off the market or something. The girls just wanted details of their break-up so they would have some good gossip to talk about.

If one more person asked her about it, she was either going to scream or cry. Or both. She hadn't been this miserable since she and Ron broke up a year after war ended. It wasn't that they hadn't loved each other. They just wanted different things. He wanted to get married. She wasn't ready to settle down. They both ended up saying hurtful things they didn't really mean, and in the end, their relationship was ruined. And now, even though they were both required to marry, Ron wouldn't take her back if she begged him to.

Hermione closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to spill over. She absolutely refused to cry tonight, especially since Ron was here. Ginny had of course invited Ron and Percy, as they were still single. Charlie was too, but since he lived in Romania, he didn't have to follow British laws. George had married Angelina Johnson six months previously.

Hermione sighed, wishing she could leave. If no one was interested in her, then what was the point in staying? She had a whole host of other parties she'd be attending in her search for someone to marry.

Just as she began to seriously contemplate leaving, the doorbell rang, surprising her. Harry and Ginny lived in a predominantly Muggle town, so they kept up appearance by driving a car, having a doorbell, and other such things. Almost all of the wizards and witches who had come had used the knocker though, not knowing what a doorbell was.

She caught Ginny's eye before she could get up, motioning for her to stay put while she got the door. She weaved her way through the crowded living room and finally made her way to the door just as the doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming," she said loudly, grumbling to herself about the impatience of some people. She opened the door and almost immediately froze at the sight before her. She quickly slammed the door shut and shook her head. _Surely not_, she thought. She opened it back up and decided she was not, in fact, seeing things. Draco Malfoy was standing on the stoop.

"Malfoy?" she said uncertainly.

"Granger," he replied with a twitch of his lips that she thought might have been a smirk about to form before it was quickly hidden.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, mostly confused, but a little hostile, as well.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "I was invited. I know I'm a little late. Um…where did I put that?" he said to himself, looking in his pockets. "Aha! See? Proof of invite." He held up the invitation for her to see.

"Er, right," she said rather dumbly. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting… Come in, come in." Draco stepped into the house and looked around curiously. "You can lay your cloak in here," she said, gesturing to the sunroom. "Everyone is gathered in the living room. Food and drinks are on the dining room table. Help yourself."

She quickly left the sunroom and hurried over to Harry. "You didn't tell me you invited Malfoy," she hissed at him.

Harry feigned surprise. "Ginny didn't tell you? Hmmm…"

"Don't act so surprised, Harry. I know you better than that. Why is he here?"

"Well, we didn't think it was fair to invite all the other Slytherins and leave him out," he replied.

Hermione fixed him with this look that said that was a lame excuse and he knew it.

"Look, I know you don't like the Malfoys," Harry began. Hermione snorted. That was a bit of an understatement considering she'd been _tortured_ in their house during the war. "But you didn't see him at his house, and you didn't hear his mum out there in the forest. They couldn't have cared less who won and who lost by that point. They just wanted to stay alive and safe. If you don't want to talk to him, fine, then don't. No one's going to make you marry him. But he deserves a chance to find someone to marry too, same as you and everyone else here." With that he turned around and went over to Ginny.

Hermione was a little hurt. It was silly, but she rather felt that her friends didn't care about her feelings.

She turned to the doorway, thinking to get something to drink, and saw Draco standing in the doorway looking around uncertainly. It was almost as if he didn't know what to do, who to talk to. Hermione thought it odd. He wasn't the only Slytherin here. Surely he could and would join in with some of them. But as she looked around and noticed how the other Slytherins were pointedly _not_ looking at him, she knew no one would be inviting him to join their little group.

She looked around for someone to talk to, but decided she didn't want to put up with the questions again. Instead she sat down on a love seat in a corner and crossed her arms over her chest, losing herself in her thoughts. She shouldn't care about Malfoy's lack of friends. She _didn't _care. Malfoy let his aunt torture her in his house. He didn't even try to stop it. It's no wonder he didn't have any friends left.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice the very person she had been thinking about walking up to her until he was standing right in front of her. Surely he wasn't going to try something right under Harry's nose! She was so confused as to how he came to be standing in front of her, and why, that it took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.

"Granger. Granger? _Granger_!" Draco said, finally startling her out of her thoughts.

"Huh? What?" she replied.

"Are you okay? You look rather pale," Draco said. "You're not getting sick are you?"

Before Hermione could even think of a response, Ron came out of nowhere, shouting and drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "Leave her alone, Malfoy! Haven't you done enough to her for once lifetime?"

The room went absolutely silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry trying to get through the crowd to her, Ron, and Draco, but Hermione did not even think to wait for Harry to diffuse the situation. Ron's outburst had upset her even more than she already was. What right did he have to go all protective of her? He had not talked to her for the last two years unless forced to out of necessity. He had accused her of not loving him, then just turned his back on their relationship as if it had not even been worth trying to fix. She was so upset she saw red.

"What is it to you if Draco talks to me, Ron?" Hermione demanded, vaguely noticing that both Draco and Ron looked startled at the use of Draco's first name. "As I recall, you don't care about me anymore anyway. I'm not sure you ever really did."

With that, Hermione stood up and quickly left to find her cloak, trying not to shed the tears that were springing to her eyes. She had had enough of this stupid party. She reached the sunroom and started tossing cloaks aside trying to find her own. She had arrived before anyone else, so it was probably on the very bottom of the pile.

_Oh, where is it?_ Hermione thought, becoming frantic now to get away because her tears were not abating at all.

She heard someone behind her clear their throat and whirled around, involuntarily freezing in place almost immediately. Draco was standing there, holding her cloak. _How did he…_. He must have noticed the confusion on her face because he took a step forward and offered it to her, saying "It was on the chair here" and indicated the corner closest to the door.

She took the cloak, but remained frozen in place, not saying anything, completely unsure what to do.

Eventually the silence must have gotten to Draco. "Potter's out back having a go at Weasley," he told her.

That was the last straw for Hermione. She let out a sob and collapsed into a seat, not caring that it was Malfoy with her instead of a friend. She was just too upset to care. First, the gossipmongers fishing for details, then Ron's stupid yelling, and now… She had thought she was over it, but clearly she had been wrong. The realization just caused her to cry louder.

"Shit, Granger, I didn't mean to—," he started to say, before he was interrupted by Ginny rushing into the room.

She went straight over to Hermione and wrapped her arms around her as best she could. "Shh, it's going to be okay. You're okay, you're safe." Ginny rocked Hermione back and forth, trying to calm her.

"I didn't mean to make her cry," Draco said. Hermione thought he sounded scared for some reason.

"It's okay, Malfoy. It's not you personally. But it might be best if you go," Ginny told him. He exhaled deeply, like he was just waiting for someone to say that to him. "It's just…" She hesitated, then continued, "Let's just say it's bad memories."

After that everything was quiet for the longest time, except for the sound of Hermione's crying and Ginny's soothing murmurs to her.

Draco must have understood, or at least realized he was somehow making things worse, because when Hermione finally calmed down and looked up, she didn't see him anywhere.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked her quietly. Hermione nodded.

"Harry sent everyone home a little while ago. He thought you would appreciate the privacy."

Hermione sniffed, then said, "I will be okay. I think I just want to lay down and sleep. Do you mind if I use the guest room?"

Ginny smiled. "Not at all. Want me to bring you some tea?"

Hermione stood up and headed for the stairs. "Yeah. Thanks," she said, not really wanting it but knowing it would reassure Ginny.

Once she was upstairs and had drank some of her tea, she lay down and hugged a pillow to her chest. _Merlin, what a terrible day_. She just lay there and stared at the ceiling, trying not to think. At some point, long after the shadows had begun to lengthen and the room to grow dim, she fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

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**Author's Note:** So I hope everyone enjoyed HP7 this weekend. We sold around 2000 tickets to the midnight premiere at my theater. I can't wait til Tuesday when I get to go see it. Read, review, and enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Okay, this one is short. I considered adding more to it, but decided I wanted the next part to happen in the next chapter (which I have started) and from Hermione's POV. But seriously, I'm spoiling ya'll by posting so frequently. Unless a miracle happens (by which I mean my son suddenly decides he doesn't need his mommy with every single crawl he makes AND I get a decent night of sleep) I doubt the next one will be out til after Thanksgiving. In the meantime, read my update and go watch HP7 if you haven't already. Or go watch it again. Have a Happy Thanksgiving, remember to be thankful for the important things, and I'll update in December.**

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Chapter Four: Draco

Draco lay in bed at his parents' house, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the afternoon's disastrous party. _I probably shouldn't have gone_, he thought to himself. _That whole mess with Weasley and Granger…what was that about? Since where were those two on the outs?_ Even the Slytherins had known they loved each other back in school.

He supposed he should start getting out more if he didn't know something as big and talked about as the breakup of Weasley and Granger. After all, the war ended almost three years ago. It wasn't necessary for the Malfoy to lie low anymore.

True, they would probably never again be as influential as they had been before the war. But did Draco really want to be in the thick of things at the Ministry? _Not really_, he thought. Truthfully, he just wanted a nice quiet life without any more drama. Even a wife and kids sounded good; although he never would have gotten married this young if the Ministry hadn't passed that stupid law.

This brought him back to the reason he had been at that disastrous party in the first place. To find a wife. _Well that went swimmingly. I say three words to a girl, her ex-boyfriend freaks out, and then her best friend tells you to leave, even though she's the one who invited you in the first place. Way to go, Draco._

Who was he kidding? No one there was even contemplating talking to him. Not even his own former housemates. Granger was the only one who even spoke to him. Although she did seem real quiet and nervous. Not at all like the Granger he remembered from Hogwarts. _She never used to be like that. What changed?_

Ginny Potter's words came back to him. _Bad memories_. Yeah, that pretty much summed it up. Draco hated that entire last year of the war. He couldn't ever remember being so afraid in his life. Except maybe the year before that when he had been ordered to kill Dumbledore.

Draco vividly remember the night the snatchers had brought Granger, Weasley, and Potter to the Manor. His aunt had tortured Granger for what seemed like ages, thought it was probably only a few minutes in reality. She and Greyback had been all for killing her. He couldn't have done anything to prevent it, either. As mad as the Dark Lord had been at them that Potter had escaped, Draco was rather glad they had. He had already seen enough killing at that point to last him a lifetime.

Granger had endured it like a champion, though. She was even able to lie once or twice in the course of it. _Strong girl_, Draco thought. _Capable of keeping her wits about her_. But then, he knew that from school. She was always top in every class, the only exception being Defense Against the Dark Arts, or so he had heard. And that was probably more due to the inadequacy of their professors than anything else. Hermione Granger was a very powerful witch. Too bad she wasn't half-blood. He might consider marrying her just based on her power alone.

_Wait a minute_. Draco sat straight up in his bed._ Why can't I marry her?_ The whole reason his family only married pure-bloods was because they believed that Mud- Muggle-borns and half-bloods could never be as powerful as a pure-blood. But Granger…there was no doubt to anyone in the Wizarding world that he was one of – if not the most – powerful witch of her age.

Draco leapt out of bed. He would need to talk to his parents about this. Hopefully they were still awake. There were other things they would object to besides her blood status, the most obvious being her friendship with Potter. He thundered down the stairs and into the drawing room where his father and mother sat reading.

"Draco? Are you okay? What's wrong?" his parents asked almost at the same time.

"Nothing, nothing. Father? Mother? I know exactly who my bride should be."

"Should be? Does this mean you have not asked her yet?" Narcissa inquired.

"No, I only just realized she would be the best choice. And I am almost positive she will need persuading," Draco said.

Lucius laughed. "Draco, what girl in her right mind would need persuading to marry a Malfoy?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco replied, then braced himself for his parents' reaction, which he was sure would be explosive.

His parents did not disappoint.

"Hermione Granger? Are you out of your mind?"

"Potter's friend?"

"But she's a Muggle-born!"

"I thought she was with that Weasley kid…"

"I doubt she is even a virgin…"

"The shame it would bring to our family…"

"Have you gone mad?"

Eventually his parents calmed down enough for Draco to get a word in edgewise. He explained to them why she was the best choice. Every time they brought up a reason that he could not possibly marry her, he refuted it successfully. The sticking point, as he had thought it would be, was the fact that she was Potter's friend.

"Well, Potter saved my life in the last battle, testified for us in the trials, and even invited me to the party at his house. While I doubt he would be eager for his best friend to marry me, I think we can count on him to at least not dismiss it completely," Draco told them. "I think Weasley will be much more against it than Potter."

"What about your history? From what you have told us, you were never nice to her at school. Plus, you aunt tortured her in this very house. You really think she would marry you?" his mother asked.

Once again, Ginny Potter's words popped into his head. _Bad memories_. Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "That's why I said she would need persuading. She sort of freaked out at the party. But Potter's wife said it wasn't me personally. Just bad memories. So there's a possibility."

His parents paused, considering what he had said. As they looked at each other, it seemed they were having a silent conversation. Finally, his mother spoke again.

"You have to marry by your twenty-first birthday. That is just under four months away. Will you be able to get her to agree to marry you by then?" she asked.

"Actually, I will have less," he corrected. "She is older than me. Her birthday is sometime in the fall. So he has to marry by May."

Narcissa's eyes widened just slightly at that bi of information before she schooled her face once again. "Then my question still stands. That gives you just two months. Can you do it?"

Draco thought this would probably be the hardest thing he had ever attempted in his life, and that included trying to kill Dumbledore. But he was determined to succeed. He set his jaw, raised his head, and looked his parents full in the eye. "Yes. Yes, I can."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Hermione

Hermione woke up to see bright sunlight pouring into the room. That confused her. She was used to waking up to an alarm since she always had the drapes pulled shut around her bed. Looking around, she realized she was in Harry and Ginny's guest room, not her own bedroom. Memories of her breakdown the previous day came flooding back to her. She groaned and flopped back down onto the pillow.

_What a disaster of a party_, she though. Between Ron's outburst and her breakdown in front of Malfoy, she would never be able to show her face in public again.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. The door opened and she saw Ginny peek her head in the room. "Oh, good. You're awake." She entered the room carrying a tray of breakfast dishes. "You'll have to eat quickly, or you will be late to work."

Hermione groaned again. She had absolutely no desire to go to work today.

"Yeah, I thought that was what you would say," Ginny replied with a smile. "I'll have Harry send an owl for you. You and I are going to have some girl time today." She left to go find Harry. Hermione smiled gratefully at Ginny's retreating form and grabbed a piece of toast.

After she had finished eating, Hermione took a shower and got dressed, already feeling a little better. She went downstairs to look for Ginny and found her in the living room, cleaning up the last of the party mess. Ginny looked up when she entered the room.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "A little, I guess."

"Good," she said. "I was a little worried when I saw you crying in front of Malfoy."

"Yeah, about that," Hermione said, suddenly upset. "Why did you invite all of those Slytherins? And of all of them, did you have to invite Malfoy?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I invited the Slytherins, including Malfoy, because they are being forced into these stupid marriages, same as everyone else. Besides, from what you have told me, Malfoy has never done anything more than insult you at school. If anything, he did what little he could to _prevent_ his aunt from torturing you." Ginny fixed Hermione with a look similar to one Mrs. Weasley would have worn if they were having this conversation instead, one that said she thought Hermione was being a little ridiculous. "When are you going to move on and get over this? Everyone else has. The war is over, we're all adult here. It's time you started acting like it."

Hermione could not believe it. Her best friend was taking Malfoy's side over hers! She straightened her back and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she did not want to be here anymore. "You know what? I should really go to work. I have a lot of work to do." She went to the hall to get her cloak, then moved to leave, but Ginny was blocking her way to the door.

"Hermione, you're being silly. Of course I'm on your side. But I'm worried about you. It isn't like you to hold on to such fear and hatred for so long," Ginny cried. "Please stay, we'll go shopping. Or go out to lunch and chat for awhile."

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Ginny. I have to go."

As she walked out the door, she heard Ginny yell, "Running away isn't going to solve anything, Hermione!"

Two hours later, Hermione was at her desk trying to hide herself in her work. She was sorry she had fought with Ginny, but she was still mad at her, too. Ginny just didn't understand. Hermione _couldn't_ get over it. She still occasionally had nightmares about being tortured at the Malfoys' manor. It did not matter that Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback were dead. They still haunted her in her dreams. How could she ever look Malfoy in the face after that? She was a Gryffindor; she wasn't supposed to be afraid. But he had seen her fear. He was a witness to it.

Despite all of that, though, Malfoy wasn't the real problem yesterday. She might have been nervous and afraid around him, but she knew he wouldn't have done anything to her at the party, even assuming he wanted to, which she doubted. The real problem with yesterday had been Ron. Watching Ron chat and flirt with other girls, like he had never loved Hermione at all. Knowing that he did not want to marry her anymore. Knowing that she was still in love with him and had wanted to marry him someday when she was older, but that it would never happen now. And then he went all possessive and protective of her. _That_ was what had caused her little freak out at the party. _That_ was what she was really running from.

Hermione sighed and tried not to start crying. So far, she had succeeded in both avoiding any of her coworkers and not crying. She knew, though, that eventually Harry would come find her, or her boss would pop in. That would be just her luck.

As she reached for another stack of papers, Hermione's stomach growled. She glanced at the clock and decided it was a good time to take a break anyway. She stood up, threw her cloak around her shoulders, and left for the Floos. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks when she arrived home without having been stopped by anyone.

An hour later, Hermione walked back into her office, feeling slightly better than she had that morning. She noticed she had mail in her inbox and sat down to read it. The first couple of item were just memos from her boss, followed by a not from Harry saying he had stopped by but missed her and would she come to dinner tonight. _Well_, she thought, _I suppose it's the least I can do since I was rude to Ginny this morning_. She quickly scribbled off a reply before looking at the final piece of mail in her inbox.

She picked it up and froze for a minute when she saw the seal. It was the Malfoy crest. Hermione debated whether to open it or just chuck it in the rubbish bin. _Silly girl_, she chastised herself. _They can't hurt you through a piece of parchment._ She broke the seal before she could change her mind and quickly scanned the missive. _This can't be right_, she thought and reread it. Then she turned it over and read the address. It was clearly addressed to her. Why would Malfoy want to have lunch with her?

Her first instinct as to throw it away, like it was some sort of joke and not worth responding to. But she did not really believe it was a joke. It was not Malfoy's style, which meant he really wanted her to have lunch with him.

It was the why that Hermione was unsure about. _He probably just wants to discuss getting another house elf_, she thought. But if that was the case, why did he need to schedule a lunch with her? He could just schedule an appointment through her office.

A thought crossed her mind and she paled. _No, he couldn't possibly want to…_ But nothing else really made sense, and Malfoy, being a Slytherin, after all, always had a reason for anything he did.

Hermione sat back in her chair, thinking and worrying her lip. What should she do? Should she meet with him? Would she even be able to with her stupid fears cropping up?

Hermione was jarred out of her thoughts as her assistant, Jack, popped his head in her office followed by Louise. "Hey, Hermione."

"Jack! Louise! You're back! How was the honeymoon?" she exclaimed, jumping up and hugging them in greeting.

"Very nice, warm, and relaxing," the newlywed woman replied. "I would love to go back again someday." Jack nodded in agreement, putting his arm around his wife. They talked for a little longer before the couple left after deciding they would come back to work the next day.

Hermione sat back down and reflected on the two of them and how happy they were together. _They are so lucky,_ she thought. _They married for love, not having been forced to marry._ She had always planned to marry for love, but now it looked like that would not even be a choice.

Thinking about her impending marriage reminded her about her letter from Malfoy. She shuddered, knowing there was no way she could see him alone without bolting in fear. She reached over and threw the letter in the trash. It may be rude not to reply even with regrets, but she could not honestly say she was sorry. He could just assume what he liked about her lack of response.

She looked at her watch and decided to stop for the day. She would go relax for a couple of hours at her flat before going to Harry and Ginny's for dinner.

That night at Harry's, Hermione told her friends about her lunch invitation from Malfoy. Harry's reaction was to spit out his pumpkin juice, while Ginny's was to drop her fork and her jaw in disbelief.

"He did what?" Ginny exclaimed.

"He sent me an invitation to lunch," she repeated.

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. "Why would he send you an invitation to lunch?" Harry asked slowly.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't say why he wanted to eat lunch with me." She paused for a moment as her friends gave each other that knowing glance that married couples have where you just know they are having a silent conversation. "What?"

"Do you think he wanted to ask you to marry him?" Ginny asked.

"What? No," she said, not wanting to admit the same thought had briefly crossed her mind. "He's the King of Slytherin, hater of all Gryffindors. Why would he want to marry me? Plus, I'm Muggle-born. His family hates witches like me."

"Well, he has to get married because of this stupid law, too," Ginny said.

"And besides, I don't think he has many options. He wasn't exactly welcomed by the other witches yesterday. You were the only one who even spoke to him. And from what I hear, his own party last weekend was even worse."

Hermione sat back and thought about that. She hadn't paid much attention to Malfoy—or anyone else at the party, for that matter—after he arrived. But now that she thought about it, even his old Slytherin friends had ignored or avoided him.

And it happened at this own party, too. Her Gryffindor sense of loyalty was affronted. Alright, so his family was at the center of Voldemort's court before the war ended. So were many other Slytherin families. They weren't any less to blame. It was certainly no reason to just abandon lifelong friendships. Even if Slytherins typically were only loyal to themselves.

"So you think he wants to discuss marriage?" Hermione asked. "Simply because I talked to him?" She did some quick math in her head. Malfoy was one of the younger ones in their year. That meant he wasn't even twenty-one yet. She shook her head. "But he has until summer to marry. Why would he already be so desperate to marry me? He has plenty of time to find someone else."

"Well," Ginny said. "He may have time, but you don't. You're already twenty-one. You have to marry in a little more than two months."

Hermione's blood went cold at that thought. The three month time limit had never seemed very long, but when Ginny put it like that, it sounded even shorter.

"Well, it doesn't matter why he sent the invitation, anyway. I didn't reply and have no intention of doing so, either. Malfoy may be desperate. But I'm not," Hermione said, effectively ending the matter. She tried to ignore the looks Harry and Ginny gave each other at her response before they moved on to other topics. But a little part of her, the part that was still the old Hermione, had a feeling this would not be the end of it.

Over the next few weeks, Hermione continued to receive lunch and dinner invitations at work during the week, which promptly followed the first one into the trash. On the weekends, she would attend the "marriage socials" as many people were calling them. While she did not exactly think of them as relaxing, they were less stressful than she had thought they would be. She strategically chose to accept only invitations for socials that she did not think Malfoy would attend. For the most part, she was successful at avoiding him, and when she was unsuccessful, she would make her excuses to the host and leave before he could corner her.

At least she had not had to worry about Ron in addition to Malfoy. He and Lavender Brown had announced their engagement a week after the party at Harry and Ginny's. Hermione had cried herself to sleep that night after she had heard the news, grieving for what she had lost and could never back. When she had woken up the next morning, she had told herself she was done crying over Ron. It was time to move on and try to find some happiness for herself.

Unfortunately, in spite of Malfoy's persistence, none of the other wizards seemed to want to marry her. In fact, attendance at the socials were decreasing with each passing week as more and more wizards and witches paired off and began planning their weddings. She now had only six weeks until she had to marry and was no closer to finding a husband than she was before the Ministry a had issued the edict in the first place.

So when Malfoy unexpectedly popped into Hermione's office, she couldn't help but freak out. Only this time, it had less to do with her past fears and more to do with the fear that Malfoy really did want to talk marriage.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Each time she threw away on of his invitations, she knew he wouldn't be put off for much longer. If Draco Malfoy was anything, it was relentless in the pursuit of a goal. And he had definitely been relentless about sending her those invites.

Hermione had only seen him coming about three minutes before he entered her office. She briefly considered running and hiding, but realized it was futile. Her office was at the end of a row of cubicles, with the only exit in the direction from which Malfoy was coming. Not for the first time did she curse the layout of the Ministry of Magic. With growing nervousness, she was forced to sit there and wait for him to reach her. _At least I can hide behind my stacks of paperwork_, Hermione thought with a little bit of glee. _If I'm lucky, he'll think I'm gone._

"Granger," she heard from behind her.

Hermione groaned silently. _No such luck_. She turned around slowly to see Malfoy leaning against her filing cabinet as if he owned the place. "Malfoy," she feigned surprise. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Draco

When Draco decided to pursue Hermione Granger's hand in marriage, he had not deluded himself into thinking his task would be easy. Aside from the obvious obstacles, such as the traditional hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins, or the personal enmity between Draco and Harry Potter and his friends, there was the little incident of Hermione's torture during the war by Draco's aunt Bellatrix. He rather doubted Hermione would be eager to wed him based on that alone, regardless of how rational and pragmatic she habitually was.

Nevertheless, he could not believe a month had passed, and he hadn't even received a first look, let alone a second. Draco suspected she was either throwing away his dinner invitations—he had sent four now—or avoiding him. Or perhaps both. He rarely saw her at the marriage socials, and even when he did, she usually left just a few minutes after his arrival. Regardless, time was running out, and he was no closer to marrying her than he had been a month ago.

At least she did not seem to have any suitors for him to contend with, as well. If he wasn't so frustrated with the situation, he would have wondered more at that. He would have thought any young wizard would be ecstatic to have such a powerful and famous wife. As it was, Draco was just thanking Merlin he did not have any additional challenges to deal with. Not that he wouldn't have been able to.

He figured she had to be getting anxious about the looming deadline, now that March was just about gone. So with the clock ticking, he had awoken that morning with the intention of actually meeting with Hermione, no matter what it took. Draco went to the family owlery and sent her another invite via his eagle owl, Xerxes, though he highly doubted this one would warrant any more attention than the rest had. Then he called on his father's book keeper and rescheduled their meeting for Wednesday. He was going to drop in on Granger for a chat, and he wanted to make sure his schedule was clear when she finally came to her sense and agreed to talk marriage.

Around one o'clock, after most Ministry workers had returned from their lunch breaks, Draco Flooed to the Ministry Atrium and headed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When his lift stopped at the correct floor, he exited and turned right, making his way down an aisle lined with several cubicles until it dead-ended in the office that belonged to Hermione.

He saw her door was open and that Hermione herself was trying very unsuccessfully to hide behind some paperwork. Draco grinned to himself and strolled right into the office, nodding and winking at the young witch outside on the way, and ignoring her protests.

Once inside, he quietly leaned against a filing cabinet close to the door in the event she should try to escape and took a minute to look around since Granger had been so obliging to hide herself where she couldn't even keep an eye on the door.

The office was clutterd with stacks of parchment piled up here and there and shelves chock full of books and heavy tomes. Her desk was in equal disarray, scattered with quills, ink bottles, and parchment. Draco was amazed she could even find anything within the office; it all seemed to be chaos. He saw some parchments on the filing cabinet he was leaning against and glanced at them. The top page read _De vox faunorum domus_. _House elf right?_ Draco thought. _Who would worry about rights for house elves?_ He glanced in Hermione's direction to make sure she still had not noticed him, then quickly scanned the rest of the parchment. Phrases such as "wages" and "working conditions" and "holidays" popped out at him. He shook his head. Even the famous Hermione Granger would be hard pressed to get many wizards to agree to house elf rights. He had to hand it to her, however. She had clearly done her research. The petition was very well written.

His perusal of the office complete, he turned to where Hermione was hiding. "Granger," he said, and watched her jump and whip around to look at him.

"Malfoy. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her tone indicated the impromptu meeting was anything but a pleasure.

Draco smiled, feeling confident in himself. "Well, Granger, I've been trying to invite you to dinner for weeks now, but it seems my owl keeps getting lost" He pointedly flicked his eyes to her trash can, where the invite he had sent this morning lay ill-disguised, then looked back up directly into her eyes, letting her know he knew exactly what had happened to those invites.

Hermione appeared unmoved by his words, although he did notice her face go a shade paler and the knuckles of her hand tighten lightly where it lay on her arm. She reached for a piece of parchment, and he noticed her hand was shaking. "Dinner? If you wanted a new house elf, Malfoy, you didn't have to bribe me with dinner," she said.

He laughed in response. "I don't need another house elf. My family has more than enough of those." He shook his head and took a couple of steps until he was right in front of her desk. He leaned forward and placed his hands on her desk. "I've been wanting to discuss something with you. Something of a…personal…nature."

"Personal." It came out as a statement, though the slight squeak in her voice made him think she had intended it to be a question.

"Yes, personal. I want to discuss the Marriage Law, and the prospect of you marrying me." There, it was out now. She had nowhere to run, couldn't hide from him anymore. Draco stood there watching her play out some sort of battle in her head, waiting for her response. He couldn't say it wouldn't completely surprise him if she turned him down flat, but she was a rational witch. He was confident she would accept. No one else seemed to be pursuing her. Time was running out for her if she didn't want to deal with the consequences of non-compliance.

Finally, after what seemed forever, but was probably only a few minutes, Hermione stood up and slowly leaned toward him, her face frustratingly blank of her intentions. He was just beginning to think she was going to kiss him, and started to close his eyes for just such an occurrence, when she spoke in a low voice.

"Malfoy, the Ministry may have taken away my right to marry _when_ chose, but they haven't taken away my right to marry _who_ I want. As long as I have a choice, I would rather live as a Muggle than marry someone I don't at least _like_. And Malfoy? I. Don't. Like. You."

Draco was stunned. At some point during her little speech, she had managed to draw her wand on him. He hadn't even noticed a thing.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and spoke again, her voice even lower than before, though he wasn't sure that was possible. "Now, you can either get out, or I'll throw you out. Your choice."

"I see," Draco relied, straightening up. He grinned. "Nicely done, Granger. Well, you can't blame me for trying." He headed for the door, but stopped before exiting and turned around to look at her. "But don't worry. I'm not giving up yet." As he left, he heard something break and an oath he never would have believed came from Hermione Granger if he had not heard it himself. Glancing back, he saw she had broken the window on her door when she had cast some curse that missed him. He hadn't heard her say a word, either.

Draco's grin grew bigger, and he whistled a little tune, ignoring the fact that a few dozen people were staring at him. Yes, Hermione was most definitely a very powerful witch. _She will be good for the Malfoy line_, he thought as the lift doors closed on him. Very good.

By the time he arrived back at this study in the manor, however, Draco was not as happy as before. The meeting had not gone as well as he had hoped, not at all. Not only had she flat out refused him, she had kicked him out in front of witnesses _and_ tried to curse him. No, that wasn't true. She had said she didn't like him enough to marry him without being forced to. Still, he was no closer than before to getting her acceptance.

Draco poured himself a brandy and took a seat in his armchair by the fireplace. He had to think about what to do next. Six weeks left to go, and his mother would want two weeks to arrange everything for the wedding. So really, he only had four weeks left to get her to agree to marry him.

The way he saw it, there were only two choices. One, he could wait it out until the Ministry chose for her and have them chose Draco as her husband. He didn't especially like that idea though. That would mean six weeks of uncertainty since his family no longer had any influence in the Ministry. There was no guarantee he would get the outcome he wanted.

The second option was to make her like him. The only problem was, he had no clue how to make her like him, because he had no idea what she liked. Well, aside from books. Everyone knew that Hermione Granger loved books.

Well, there really was no choice at all. He would have to try and get her to like him. If in six weeks, she had not married him, he would worry about leaning on the Ministry then. So he would have to do some digging to find out some of Hermione's likes. In the meantime, he would try the classic candy and flowers.

Draco's musings were interrupted by the appearance of his mother, who looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "Draco, your grandmother Malfoy Flooed." _Well that explains the sour look_, Draco thought. His grandmother hated his mother with a passion, a hatred she willingly returned. "She insists you go to tea with her this evening." Narcissa scowled and then left, having delivered the message.

Draco's curiosity was piqued by the sudden audience with his grandmother. Rhiannon Malfoy, née de Clare, was the strict matriarch of the family who was rarely if ever pleased with her son and his family. Daughter and heiress of an ancient and wealthy Pure-blood Welsh family, her marriage to Draco's grandfather Abraxus had been "arranged" by her parents.

In truth, his grandfather had sought out Rhiannon because he elder brother had the poor taste to gamble away the Malfoy family's wealth before dying during Grindelwald's campaign on the continent. Abraxus had inherited nothing but debts and needed a quick source of money. The de Clare's, on the other hand, needed to prevent their daughter from marrying a Muggle she had fallen in love with. Since the Malfoy family notoriously included a magically binding non-divorce clause in their marriage contracts, everyone felt it was a win-win situation.

Everyone, that is, except Rhiannon. While they never loved each other, they got along amiably. Once Abraxus got involved with Lord Voldemort, however, she had been livid. Rhiannon did everything in her power to keep her family out of the Dark Lord's eye, but to no avail. Lucius signed up as soon as he was of age. Her daughter, Livania, was killed by Death Eaters. The official reason was for refusing to help them infiltrate the Ministry. There were rumors, however, that Abraxus had put a hit on her for marrying a half-blood.

Abraxus had never been cruel to Rhiannon, even after joining the Death Eaters, but after Livania's death, things got decidedly worse. Draco wasn't sure what happened exactly, probably no one living except his grandmother did, but for years after that she was a shell of herself, both magically and mentally. Draco believed, however, that Rhiannon killed Abraxus once she managed to break out of whatever curse he had put on her. How else would a wizard in perfectly good health suddenly get weaker and sicker until, in the span of a week, he had died shortly before the first fall of Lord Voldemort?

Since then, Rhiannon Malfoy had made it her mission to keep the family's name from further taint. She reigned over the family with sheer personality and an iron fist, insisting on philanthropic donations and business with non-Pure-blood families to raise the family's esteem with the Wizarding world.

Her control was all the more complete since Lucius did not gain control of his inheritance until ten years after the death of his father, in an effort to prevent another loss of an inheritance. Rhiannon's parents had insisted such a clause be included in the marriage contract, which superseded any wills Abraxus or Rhiannon would make.

The return of Lord Voldemort coincided with Lucius gaining control of his inheritance, and he made it known that Rhiannon was no longer welcome in _his _manor. She packed her things and moved to her ancestral home in Pembrokeshire, ashamed to call Lucius her son. Draco could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his grandmother while in school. Even after the war ended, he had only seen her two or three times a year. Her summons meant she thought someone had egregiously breached social protocols.

Draco groaned and summoned the will to stand up. He had no desire to be lectured by his grandmother, but ignoring her would result in more than a simple lecture.

He went up to his room to change into more traditional clothes. Another of his grandmother's social protocols. He opened the wardrobe and selected a velvet set of robes in a deep forest green with black piping and buttons. A glance in the mirror assured him that his hair remained perfectly coiffed. He grabbed his cloak against the evening chill, threw some powder in the fire, and stepped through to find himself at Clare Cottage.

The name was a misnomer, chosen for its alliteration rather than as a representation of the size of the residence. Situated on the coast, about twenty miles from the town of Pembroke, the manor overlooked a bluff along the rocky beach and was surrounded by woods and fields. It was smaller than Malfoy Manor, but in many ways it seemed just as large, if not larger.

The main floor consisted of a formal dining room, a morning room, the kitchen, a parlor, a conservatory, and the library. The second story was devoted to four large suites, while the top story contained the attic and the nursery for the young children.

His grandmother's house elf greeted him as he stepped through the fire and led him to the parlor where the matriarch sat in an armchair next to the fireplace. Draco bowed to her then moved to kiss her cheeks, continental style.

"Grandmother," he said in greeting, "how are you?"

She gestured to the seat next to her. "I'm fine, Draco. Thank you for asking." He sat down and waited while she poured tea and observed the social niceties, trying not to be rude. He knew she would not broach the reason for his presence until she was good and ready.

Finally, after almost half an hour later, tea cups down to the dregs, the elder woman leaned back and fixed him with a steely look. "Draco, I called you hear today because of the Marriage Law. Have you found a young lady yet?"

Draco groaned inwardly, not sure that he wanted his grandmother's advice nor opinion on this subject. "Yes, I have chosen a witch. However, she has been…resistant to the idea of marrying me."

"I see," she replied, as if she already knew as much, which Draco did not doubt. "Andy why do you think this is?"

Draco shrugged. "Could be any number of reasons, really. We have a bit of a…history, you could say. Although something she said today makes me think I have some hope of securing her hand."

Rhiannon stared back at him, not commenting or showing any other sign that she heard him. After a couple minutes, Draco began to fidget under her gaze. This was what he disliked about his grandmother. He was never sure how he had failed her, yet always got the impression that she thought he should know how.

Finally her face softened and she spoke again. "Well, I suppose the fault lies with your parents mostly, as well as your youth. You would not even be considered of age to marry by traditional standards if not for this ridiculous law."

Draco looked at her questioningly. What on earth was she talking about

"Let me start at the beginning, shall I? Would you care for more tea or biscuits before I begin?" He nodded, a bit flabbergasted about his usually stern and distant grandmother's new demeanor.

"Traditional Wizarding practice holds that girl come of marriageable age at sixteen, whereas boys do so at twenty-five. This tradition goes back to the Middle Ages when deaths occurred much more frequently due to war and disease. Only one in five children could be expected to reach adulthood, and life expectancy was decades less than that of modern wizards and witches.

"Now, this used to be practiced by all Wizarding peoples because we have always been small in numbers. Over the centuries, however, it fell out of practice as more and more half-bloods and Muggle-borns joined the community and brought with them Muggle practices. Today it is practiced almost exclusively among Pure-bloods.

"Now, witches were married at a younger age because there tended to be significantly fewer witches than wizards born. This is actually still true today. As such, young wizards would compete for a witch's hand in, marriage through a series of courting gifts. I'll wager your parents haven't told you about any of this, am I correct?"

Draco nodded. He had never known any of this.

His grandmother continued. "Yes, that does not surprise me, with your father's prejudices. They would not think it necessary to follow such traditions. Especially for Hermione Granger."

Draco's eyes bugged out at the mention of Hermione's name. How did his grandmother know about Hermione?

"Oh, don't look so surprised," she said, chuckling. "My reputation and influence in London have not been decimated. I keep my nose in at the Ministry. Your little visit to her office today created quite the stir. And for the record, I do not share your parents' prejudices about Muggle-borns. Now, I understand she turned you down because she does not like you?"

Draco nodded. All speech seemed to have failed him.

"Well, if she is as wide-read as everyone claims, she will know about the tradition. Quite probably, my boy, you insulted her by not following tradition. However inadvertent it may have been."

Draco found his voice again. "Great. Just great. She doesn't like me because I was such a prat to her at school. Quite probably she's afraid of me and my parents because Aunt Bella tortured her in our house. And now I've insulted her. I can't possibly fix all this enough for her to agree to marry me by May." Draco slumped back in his chair. Now what was he to do?

His grandmother gave him one of her measuring looks again. "Why are you so eager for her to marry you? Why this witch and not some other?" she asked. "And sit up straight. You were raised to have better manners than that."

Ah, now there was the grandmother he was familiar with. "Well for starters, she really is the smartest and most powerful witch of the age. She beat me at every subject at school, every year. She was even able to lie to Aunt Bella while being tortured. Our children would be very powerful, magically speaking. In addition, well, the other reason isn't really a reason at all," he grudgingly admitted. "None of the other witches will even look at me, let alone marry me. Too sordid a history, being an ex-Death Eater and all. Granger at least will look at and speak to me."

He sat quietly waiting for his grandmother to finish measuring him again. "It so happens I think she is the best match for you. Even the Pure-blood girls would only be second best. So I am going to help you," Draco gaped at her, hardly believing his ears, while she summoned a parchment, quill, and ink. "You will have to apologize to her, of course. That is the first step to getting her to like you. Judging by the curse she sent your way, I believe a sincere letter and some flowers would be best. Make them purple hyacinth."

"Purple hyacinth?" he interrupted. "Why purple hyacinth?"

"For one because any educated lady with knowledge of traditional practices would expect them. Flowers have various meanings. Purple hyacinth means 'I am sorry'. Second, by reverting to a traditional apology, you are acknowledging your faux pas from earlier, as well as telling her you think she is your equal and not beneath you as you earlier implied."

"Okay, letter of apology with purple hyacinths. Then what?"

"Next you tell her in a traditional manner that you wish to court her. Again, this is in the language of flowers. _Viscaria oculata_ means 'Will you dance with me?' In other words, you are asking her to entertain you attentions. If she replies with a forsythia blossom, the answer is yes. If the answer is no, she will reply with any number of blossoms which give the reason for refusal."

Draco absorbed every word she said, astonished that he had never heard any of it before. Granted there had been a state of war for half his life, which disrupted normal wizarding social practices. Nevertheless, he found it fascinating.

Following the initiation of their courtship, he was to send three gifts, as it were. The first was a gift that displayed his wealth. Wealth was important for shelter and good health. It implied that he had the means to provide for her. Jewelry was a common representation of wealth.

The second gift was a magical gift. Such a gift showed off his magical ability, as well as his magical education. The most educate and powerful wizards were better able to defend their families during times of war. This gift would require some thought.

The third gift was more personal. It was supposed to tell the witch that he knew her, her personality and character, what was important to her. It let the witch know she was a person to him, not just an object to attain, or a means to an end. This would be the most difficult to come up with.

It was also part of the courting tradition that the wizard could not see the witch in question without her parents or some other chaperone present. However, his grandmother explained, this part of the tradition had fallen out of practice in recent decades. It was up to the individual witch as to whether they would "date", so to speak.

Once all three courting gifts had been received, it was actually the responsibility of the witch to send a bundle of pansies tied with ivy to the wizard, signifying he may propose. The wizard would then contact the witch's parents or guardians to offer his proposal and negotiate the marriage contract.

When Draco left his grandmother's house a couple hours later, his confidence had risen once again. He had a plan of action, and fully intended to put it in motion the next morning. He just hoped to Merlin that it would work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hey Everyone! Sorry it's been awhile since I posted. The holidays have been crazy. But it's back to being slow in the movie business, and my baby is growing more independent everyday, which means...more time for writing! Now, don't be disappointed that this is so short. I tried to make it longer, but Hermione's POV just didn't feel right for the next development in the story. That being said, I can guarantee the next chapter is already longer than this one, and I'm not done writing it yet. So I hope you enjoy and chapter 8 will be up ASAP.**

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Chapter Seven: Hermione

When Hermione walked into her office that morning, she had fully anticipated the gossip that followed her. A visit from Draco Malfoy, the poster boy for Slytherin Pure-bloods, to Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born princess of Gryffindor, was sure to provoke questions, especially in light of the Marriage Law. So she had resigned herself to more attention than usual for the next few days.

What she had not expected was a bouquet of purple flowers sitting on her desk with yet another letter bearing the Malfoy seal. Almost immediately her anger rose. Had she not been clear the previous day that Malfoy was to leave her alone? If not her words, then surely her curse was, even if it did miss.

She picked up the flowers and the unopened letter and was just about to throw them away when in walked Ginny. Her eyes immediately went to the bouquet in Hermione's hands and then rose in question.

"Who's the apology from and for what?" Ginny asked. "Is it from Malfoy? I understand he paid you a visit yesterday."

"Yes. Wait. How do you know he's apologizing? I haven't even opened the letter yet," Hermione asked in reply, her brows furrowed.

"The purple hyacinths. They mean 'I'm sorry'," Ginny said. She must have seen the confused look on Hermione's face. "You know? The flower language? It's a wizarding tradition." A pause, then, "Oh my gosh! You've never read about the flower language? Not once in all your studies and reading? Alert the Daily Prophet! There's actually something Hermione Granger hasn't read about!"

Hermione bristled, slightly miffed by Ginny's teasing. "Well who cares about some silly tradition, anyway?" she replied sourly.

Ginny sobered. "It's not silly. All wizards and witches used to do it. Now it's fallen out of use among Muggle-borns and half-bloods because no one thought to teach them. You should actually be flattered Malfoy is apologizing to you so formally. It shows you made an impression on him, that he's sincere."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. Malfoy had sent her a sincere apology? That wasn't the Malfoy she knew. She opened the letter and read it quickly. Ginny was right, he was apologizing.

Before she had finished reading the letter, an owl flew in with another bouquet of flowers. She wasn't sure what they were, but they were beautiful. The flowers were small, pink and blue on long thin stems.

Ginny gasped. "Those are _Viscaria oculata_!" she exclaimed. "Hermione, he's asking you for permission to court you!"

She groaned and shook her head. "Argh! Why is he being so persistent? He's never liked me. I know he has to marry a Muggleborn or a half-blood, but out of all the girls out there, why is he so focused on me?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione. I haven't spent much time around him, but Harry seems to think he's different." She paused, seeming to debate something. "I think you should let him court you."

"What? Are you mad?" Hermione screeched.

"Hear me out, Hermione. First of all, you can always decline his proposal later on, if it gets to that. Just cause you're letting him pay you court does not mean you automatically agree to marry him," Ginny explained.

Hermione reluctantly nodded her agreement.

"Second, you don't have any other suitors. It's crazy, I can't figure out why, but _no one_ has even flirted with you, let alone actively pursued you. You're running out of time, Hermione. I don't want to see you forced to marry someone you don't even know because of some stupid law. I want you to be happy."

Hermione sniffed back a tear that threatened to fall. "Oh, Ginny, I want to be happy, too. But Malfoy?"

"At least you would have a choice about marrying him. And you never know, maybe he'll surprise you and turn out to be nice. Hell, maybe he'll surprise all of us."

Hermione gave a small laugh. She looked down at the flowers, considering what she should do. Unfortunately, Ginny was right: Malfoy _was_ the only prospective suitor. She didn't really have much of a choice.

She sighed. "Alright, you know all about this tradition. Let's go to lunch, and you can explain it to me so I don't look like an idiot or something. I need to know what to expect."

Ginny began eagerly explaining away as they walked towards the lifts. Hermione couldn't but think to herself, _I hope I don't regret this._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Draco

Draco squinted his eyes against the bright sun filtering into Diagon Alley as he walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. The day was unusually warm and clear considering it was still March, albeit the end of the month. He fully anticipated chilly rain for the next week to make up for today's illusion of Spring.

Entering the dimly lit tavern, Draco looked around for a minute, then headed in the direction of a corner table where Harry Potter was sitting, drinking a butterbeer.

"Potter," he said nervously with a nod as greeting before sitting across from him. "Thanks for coming."

"Malfoy," Harry said in reply. "Well, your note sounded urgent, though I have to say, I have no clue what this is about." Harry looked at Draco curiously.

Draco took a deep breath and hoped Harry wouldn't react badly to what he was about to say. "Well, I have decided that if I have to marry because of his accursed law, the only with I would like to marry is Granger."

Before Draco could say anything else, Harry spit his butterbeer all over the tale and Draco. _Well, it could have been worse_, Draco thought as Harry grabbed his wand and cleaned up the mess and Draco.

"I'm sorry, you want to marry who?" Harry shrieked.

"Granger. I mean, Hermione," he said.

Harry stared at him, as if unsure what to say, so Draco continued.

"The thing is, I need your help convincing her to marry me. I've tried inviting her out to dinner, but she just ignores my owls. I even went to her office yesterday. She basically threw me out."

Still Harry said nothing.

"My grandmother and I came up with a plan, but it requires that I actually know a little bit about her, which I don't."

Harry finally found his voice. "Wait, what kind of plan are you talking about?" he said, his voice full of unspoken warnings.

"Nothing you wouldn't like," Draco hurriedly assured Harry. "My grandmother just thinks she'll be more open to the idea if I follow tradition and court her."

Harry's face switched from barely concealed violence to surprise, before becoming indiscernible once again, as if he were considering some weighty matter. "I didn't know you had a grandmother," he finally said.

A little confused by that, Draco replied, "Well, it's not like we've ever taken the time to get to know each other or anything. But yeah, my dad's mother. Rhiannon Malfoy, née declare. I don't really know her well. She kind of cut herself off from us when the Dark Lord returned. I'm surprised you don't know her. She's a big influence with the Ministry."

Harry nodded. "Why Hermione, Malfoy? You've always hated her. Made her right miserable at school. Why is she suddenly so acceptable?"

Draco exhaled with relief, glad that Harry wasn't going to turn him down flat. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath. "Well, she's a very intelligent and very powerful witch, both traits of which I'm sure would pass on to our children," he replied confidently.

Harry's expression darkened again. "If you just want her to be your brood mare, then you can forget it, Malfoy," he growled at Draco and began to stand up.

"No, no, wait," he cried out. "Alright, look, there's no one else. o one is even willing to talk to me, let alone consider marrying me. They either hate me because we helped the Dark Lord during the war, or because we abandoned him in the end." Draco slumped back in his chair, as if defeated. "Hermione is the only one who even talked to me at your party weeks ago. Even the girls at my own party barely did more than greet me."

Harry sat back down, silent. Draco was beginning to hate all this thinking. There was less of it in a game of wizard's chess.

"And besides, I don't hate her. Not sure I ever did."

Harry gave him a skeptical look.

"Oh, sure, I was rotten to you guys. I admit it. But that had more to do with how I was raised and was expected to behave than because of any opinions I formed on my own," Draco explained. He leaned forward, earnestly. "Look, I'm not out to hurt her. I wasn't looking to get married this early in my life. In my family, wizards generally wait to marry until age twenty-five. But I got to thinking about it, and I rather like the idea of having a wife and kids. Hermione may be Muggle-born, which is definitely not typical of a Malfoy bride, but she has every other quality we look for, with the possible exceptions of wealth and virginity. I don't know her well enough to know about those two."

This time Harry's face was incredulous.

"But neither of them are deal breakers," Draco said. He began ticking off his fingers. "She's so intelligent it's scary sometimes. And she's the only one in our class to beat me in all our subjects. She's powerful, too. And she has courage in spades." He swallowed hesitantly before continuing. "You should have seen her while my aunt…while she was under…Well, she was brilliant. She was even able to lie to my aunt. That's pretty formidable."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, that not's not the hardest thing she had to do during the war," he said quietly, looking down at the table.

"Really?" Draco replied, torn between curiosity and not crossing this tentative line of friendliness that was forming between them.

Harry looked back up at Draco. "Yeah, but that's her story to tel. Okay," he almost sighed, "so you want to court Hermione so she'll marry you. So what do you want from me? All the gifts are supposed to come from your knowledge of the witch being courted."

Draco was surprised Harry even knew about wizarding courting traditions. It must have shown on his face, because Harry quickly said, "I leaned all about it when I tried to propose to Ginny and was told she couldn't marry someone without having been courted first. And again when the Weasley's made Ron court Lavender before proposing last month."

Draco nodded. "Right. Well, I know a little bit about her. Like I said, she's smart and powerful and courageous. And because she's a Gryffindor, I know she's loyal to her friends and family. But that could be any girl out there. I don't know what makes her Hermione."

He paused to catch his breath before continuing. "I mean, I could buy her some expensive piece of jewelry to show I can provide for her, but would she like it? And that's just the easiest of my problems. What would prove to her than I can protect her? Something tells me it's not so simple as wards placed around the manor? And the last gift? The one that says I know what's important to her, her likes and dislikes, her very character? Again, aside from her Gryffindor qualities, I'm at a loss."

Draco sat back and nervously ran a and through his hair. "If you don't help me, I'm not sure who else to go to."

He prayed fervently to whatever gods existed that Harry would help him. It wasn't easy for Draco to ask for help.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Harry muttered to himself. "Alright, I'll help you. It's not like she has anyone else pursuing her anyway."

Draco cleared his throat. "Yeah, I, uh, I noticed that. Why do you think that is? Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he said quickly when Harry looked up at him. "I just would have thought more wizards would want to marry her, is all."

"I don't know, and that bothers me," Harry admitted. "But I can't do anything about it. So here's what I'll do. I will give you enough to get you started on Hermione's gifts, as well as do my best to get her to consider you as a suitor. But the rest is up to you. _You_ have to figure out who she is, what she values. _You_ have to convince her to say 'yes' in the end. Understood?" 

"Absolutely," Draco agreed, nodding.

"You won't be able to understand Hermione unless you understand what it means to be Muggle-born. I may be half-blood, but I didn't know anything about wizards until I got my Hogwarts letter, so I know what she's been through better than most. You spend your whole life growing up one way, thinking one way, maybe even being told magic isn't real. Then you get a letter on your eleventh birthday, and suddenly everything you knew is turned upside down. You enter this world that all your Muggle friends and family couldn't possibly begin to understand. Sure, intellectually, they may know that as a witch, their daughter will use magic. But they can't imagine it, and they can't see it, either, because of the restrictions on underage magic. And so the witch and her parents tend to grow apart as the years go by, because of the lack of commonality. That's just a typical Muggle-born problem."

Harry looked Draco in the eye, making sure he understood. "Hermione entered the wizarding world on the eve of a war where her blood status made her someone others hated, wanted dead even, just because she existed. That alone would have made things difficult for her, trying to survive in this world, while still trying to fit in with her parents' world. But then she became my friend, and placed a huge target on her own head because of it. Not just her head, but the heads of her family and Muggle friends, too."

He paused for a moment. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I think so, but no, not really," Draco admitted.

"Hermione has always tried to keep one foot in each world. And in so doing, she put her parents at great risk." Harry sighed. "I can't go into the details, like I said, that's her story to tell. Suffice it to say, her parents are lost to her. She tries to bring the Muggle world to the Wizarding world as much as she can, because now she can't go back to it. She'd have nowhere to go." He sat back, sober and melancholy. "Do you understand now?"

Draco looked up at him, just as sober. "Yeah, I think so."

"The only other advice I can give you is that Hermione is very down to earth. She typically does not like fine, fancy, flashy things. Her tastes are simple and elegant. Only on occasion, such as the Yule Ball fourth year, does she turn into the glamorous type of girl."

Draco nodded. "Okay, thanks, Potter. I think I know where to start, at least."

"And Malfoy?" Harry stood and threw some money on the table for his drink. Then he leaned over the table until his face was just inches from Draco's. "If you hurt her, in any way, shape, or fashion, you'll regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco swallowed with some difficulty, found his voice wouldn't work, and settled for nodding. When Harry turned and walked away, he exhaled. He'd seen that look before. There were some wizards whose loved ones you just didn't screw with. And Harry Potter was one of them.

When Draco arrived home a while later, he was surprised to see a flower sitting on his desk. He picked it up. It was a forsythia blossom. _That was quick_, he thought. He was sure Harry would have had to work harder to get Hermione to acquiesce to his courtship. He shrugged and decided not to question it.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled. _Alright, Draco_, he thought, looking in the mirror._ It's up to you now. Don't screw it up._


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to post this. Real life plus struggling over some of the plot and details are my excuse. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please note: Hermione's hometown is assumed based on the wonderful essay located on the Harry Potter Lexicon entitled "Secrets of the Classlist". If you've never visited the website, and have ever had a question about anything regarding Harry Potter, it's probably the best site to consult. Sadly, it has not been updated in about 3 years due to a legal battle between the website's owner and J. over whether the site owner can publish a book form of the website. But it is still an awesome site.**

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Chapter Nine: Hermione

Hermione was freaking out, and she did not like it one bit. It was just a stupid dinner with Malfoy. It shouldn't matter what she wore. _Except it's not just any dinner_, a voice chimed in. _It's a dinner_ date._ Because he's_ courting_ you._

She had already spent two hours trying on one outfit after another, and the date wasn't even until tomorrow night. Ant the restaurant he had picked out – a Muggle one at that – was very ritzy. Hermione Granger did not do ritzy. She had no reason for fancy Muggle clothes; she belonged to the Wizarding world now. Even when she was required to attend formal occasions as a Ministry employee, the robs she wore would never have passed muster among the social elites, as Rita Skeeter frequently reminded her and the rest of wizarding Britain.

Hermione threw down the khaki skirt and black top she had been contemplating and went to her desk to see if she could afford to go shopping. It was pointless, she knew she did not have enough for a Muggle shopping trip. She had already looked at the book here times. Yet she still hoped a miracle would occur and she would discover a flaw in her arithmancy.

_Nothing_, she thought, sighing. _Ugh, what am I going to do!_ She leaned back in her chair and chewed on the end of her quill, pondering her wardrobe, trying to think of something suitable to wear.

Her reverie was interrupted by a pecking at the window. She saw it was an eagle owl bearing a large package, followed by another smaller owl with a slightly smaller package.

Hermione opened the window to let the two owls in and fed them some treats, then went back to her desk to peruse the parcels. Almost immediately she noticed the Malfoy crest on both of them. _Probably my first gift_, she thought.

She reached to open the first one and then hesitated. Did she really want to accept a gift from Malfoy? _Draco_, she thought. _If you're going to let him court you, then you should be on a first name basis._

She pulled the string on the parcel, and her eyes went wide as its contents were revealed. The dress she held up was simple, but definitely _haute couture_. She walked over to the mirror and held the silvery blue dress against her chest.

_It's gorgeous_, Hermione thought. The sleeves were off the shoulder and stretched across the neck just under her collarbones. The waist was banded by a strip of ivory with just a touch of gold in it. The skirt flared slightly at the hips to fall gently just above her toes. She was certain that if she were to twirl while wearing it, the skirt would flare out beautifully.

Why had Draco bought her a dress? How did he know she needed one? Hermione turned back to the packaging, hoping for some sort of note. Instead, she found a beautiful wrap that perfectly matched the sash of the dress. She held it up and watched the fringe fall down to hang from the bottom edge.

She turned her eyes to the second package, wondering what it could be. Pulling the string, she found a small rectangular box. She opened it up to reveal a necklace and matching earrings, with a note tucked in the box. Hermione examined the jewelry first.

Made of the most delicate looking silver, the necklace was an expertly woven Celtic braid, punctuated by tiny white blue gems of some sort. The earrings had the same pattern, only the braid hung from three of the same gems. It was all clearly expensive, but with none of the flashy gaudiness that often comes with such finery. It was as if it had been tailored exactly to her tastes.

She looked back down at the folded note, pulled it out, and read it.

_Dear Hermione,_ she read. _Please accept this gift as a token of my affection. I do hope you like it and will wear it on our date tomorrow evening. I am very much looking forward to it. Until then. Yours, Draco_.

Hermione set the note down, lost it thought. She put away the dress and jewelry for safekeeping and went out to the kitchen. She suddenly felt the need for a good cup of tea. All the while, her mind was racing. How had Draco known what she would like? They had barely said three sentences to each other in their whole lives that consisted of something other than insults. The only occasion she could recall having dressed up _and_ having Malfoy – Draco – present was the Yule Ball fourth year. She seriously doubted he had paid much attention to her. Certainly not enough that he still remembered her dress half a decade and a war later.

She shook her head. She didn't know how he had done it. _But_, she reflected, _he had certainly succeeded._ She trained the last of her tea in the sink, then went back to her room. Now that her attire for the next evening was decided, what she needed most was some nice and restful sleep.

"Hermione! Hold still!" Ginny scolded as she tried to arrange Hermione's hair in an elegant French twist. Hermione stilled just long enough for her friend to make one more twist here and a tuck there. Finally, Ginny nodded, satisfied with her handiwork. "There. Done," she said, and handed Hermione a mirror so she could admire her hair.

"Oh, Ginny, I don't know how you do it. I don't think I'll ever be able to control my hair. Thank you," she said, turning around to her friend.

Ginny shrugged it off. "It's nothing. Now, let's do your make-up and then get you dressed."

An hour later, Hermione hugged Ginny good-by and with a whispered good luck, watched her form disappear into the fireplace. She slipped on a silver pair of ballet flats and grabbed her shawl, just as someone knocked on her door.

Unexpectedly, Hermione felt very nervous and a little afraid, though she wasn't sure why. she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

The sight before her took her breath away. Draco looked like he just stepped off the red carpet. He was wearing an expertly tailored suit that was clearly very expensive. She wasn't sure if it was a very dark gray color or if it was black.

Hermione was suddenly aware that her mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it.

Fortunately, it seemed she had had the same effect on Draco. His eyes were as wide as his mouth as they travelled from her head to her toes. He seemed to realize he too was staring and quickly cleared his throat before speaking. "You look stunning, Granger," he said and offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

Hermione pulled the door closed and took his arm. "Thank you. You look very nice as well," she said as they exited the apartment building. She was surprised to find him leading her to a Muggle taxi that was waiting on the corner, but didn't say anything.

The car ride to the restaurant was pregnant with silence. Hermione was so nervous, she couldn't think of something to say. What did she really know about Draco? Just that he was a Slytherin in school and a smarmy brat. Oh, and a former Death Eater. None of which were exactly topics of conversation for a first date. Draco must have been nervous, too, judging by the constant fidgeting of his hand on his pant leg.

Finally they arrived at the restaurant and the awkward car ride ended. Draco helped Hermione from the car and into the restaurant where he gave his name to the maitre d'.

As they were led to their table, Hermione couldn't help but gaze in wonder at the sheer expense of the décor. The walls were covered with a textured fabric that looked like woven threads of gold. Each table was covered in a sheer white gauze that Hermione couldn't name and lighted by a low hanging lamp with dangling crystals. The dishes were gold rimmed, handmade china, and the tableware very high quality silver. If she had doubted just how expensive the restaurant was after looking at the décor, she no longer did after a glance at the menu. There were no prices listed.

Hermione was starting to get uncomfortable with all the money Draco was throwing around. The jewelry, the dress, the restaurant. Which reminded her. "Draco, the dress is lovely, but I have to ask: how did you know what dress size I wear? And how did you have it made so quickly? I only agreed to a date two days ago."

"Oh, that's easy," he replied, still perusing the menu. "I asked Madam Malkin if she still had your measurements. Then I commissioned her to make the dress."

Hermione's first thought was _Madam Malkin knows how to make Muggle dresses?_ Her second thought, however, caused her to panic slightly. "Draco, you do realize Madam Malkin is an outrageous gossip, don't you?"

Draco looked up. "I didn't, but why should that matter?" he asked.

"Well, now she'll no doubt tell everyone she meets that you were buying an expensive dress for me. We'll be on the tongues of every witch alive now."

Draco frowned. "I don't see why anyone would care what I'm buying or for whom. No one pays attention to the Malfoys anymore. Except maybe so they will know how best to avoid us," he said, the slight bitterness evident in his voice.

"Well," she began, looking for a reason to give for her concern that would not give away her true concern. So far, only Ginny, and by extension, Harry, knew about her date with Draco and his courting her. And for now, that was how she wanted it kept. "Well, I just don't want to be a topic of gossip," she came up with lamely. "It's no one's business who I see."

Draco rolled his eyes. Clearly he thought her excuse as lame as she did. "Well, I don't understand, but if it bothers you so much, I'll stop by tomorrow and ask her to keep it to herself."

Hermione shook her head. "No, that would only make it worse. I'm sure it'll be fine. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you are sure then…"

She smiled. "I'm sure. Now what are you going to eat?" she asked, picking up her menu again.

The waiter came and took their orders, then returned with their drinks. After he left again, Draco leaned forward. "So, Granger," he began.

"Hermione," she interrupted. "You should call me Hermione. Since we're on a date and all."

Draco smiled. "Hermione. So tell me, what have you been doing with yourself these last few years? Did you go back to Hogwarts for your NEWTS?"

The question threw Hermione off, but she supposed it made sense. After all, they really knew very little about each other. "Um, no. Well, I did sit my NEWTS, but I didn't go back to Hogwarts. I studied at home."

"And where is home for you? Or have you always lived here in London?"

"No, I'm from Winchester originally. My parents were dentists there."

"What is a dentist?" Draco asked.

"It's a kind of Muggle healer. For teeth," she replied. "Anyway, after second year, I spent most of my time outside of school at the Weasley's with Ron and Harry. Winchester became less and less like home. After the war…" She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. She didn't like talking about this. "Well, I haven't been back since. I got a job with the Ministry and found my flat and have been there ever since." _Please don't ask me anymore about my parents_, Hermione thought.

"And what is it you do at the Ministry?" Draco asked.

Hermione relaxed at the topic changed and then perked up again. She loved her job. "Well, mostly I'm in charge of house elves and their placement in Wizarding homes. But I've also been working on trying to prevent the abuse of house elves and to establish a bill of rights for them. Things like salaries and vacations."

Draco had an incredulous look on his face. "Rights for house elves? No offense, but who would want to give house elves rights? For that matter, what house elf would want them?"

"Well, your old house elf, Dobby, for one. But I must admit I've found very little support for y petition. Among wizards and house elves both," she said. "But I'm not giving up yet. I just need to do some more research and dig up some more funding from somewhere."

"Okay. What makes you think house elves want or need rights?"

"Well, someone has to look out for them," she cried. "They shouldn't be forced to hurt themselves if they disobey their families. And they should have something besides pillow cases and towels to wear for clothes."

She would have continued, but Draco interrupted her. "Hermione, you do realize that it's the elves who bind themselves to us, not the other way around. And they use their own magic to do so."

She stared at him not sure what to say.

He continued. "If they were really unhappy with the way things are, they wouldn't do the binding in the first place."

Hermione was speechless. No one had ever tried to talk her out of house elf rights quite like that before. "That…that…Draco Malfoy that is entirely beside the point."

He grinned like a big Cheshire cat. "If you say so."

Hermione scowled. Draco Malfoy was such a prat. "You're so brilliant, what have you been up to these last few years?" she asked him.

"Not a whole lot. Didn't go back to Hogwarts due to the trials and all. No need to take my NEWTS either. It'll be a long time before Malfoys will be trusted with political power again, whether it's behind the scenes or not. Mostly I've been learning about my family's trade investments."

"Investments? I was under the impression the Malfoy wealth was inherited," she said.

"Well, it is, sort of. My grandfather Malfoy inherited nothing but debts when his big brother died. Our current inherited wealth comes from my grandmother and my mother. What my grandmother brought as dowry was invested," he explained.

"I see," Hermione replied. "I didn't realize you had a grandmother still living."

Draco nodded. "Yes, well, we have been estranged until recently. She wasn't a fan of the Dark Lord, you could say. She's currently striving for the rehabilitation of the family name. I'm surprised you don't know her already. She's always doing something at or for the Ministry and charities and such."

"Really? What's her name?" Hermione asked.

"Rhiannon Malfoy, née de Clare."

Hermione's eyes went so wide they almost burst out of her head. "You-you're grandmother is Rhiannon de Clare?"

"Oh, so you do know her," Draco said.

"Well, only in passing. We've never been formally introduced. But I know that she's one to impress if you want to go anywhere in the Ministry."

"Well I can assure you she will want to meet you, since you're allowing me to court you."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy was the grandson of the woman she most admired at the Ministry. And she wasn't even an employee at the Ministry. Just an incredible presence and influence.

They continued talking of other things as the evening continued. Hermione was surprised at just how knowledgeable Draco was about many Wizarding and magical subjects. She had been in several courses with him at Hogwarts, but she had never really paid attention to him during their school years.

Before she knew it, their return taxi was pulling up at her apartment. When they reached the door, Hermione turned to him. "Thank you, Draco. I had a lovely evening. And thank you again, for the dress and jewelry." He nodded in acknowledgement. "But don't feel like you have to go to all that expense again. I already knew you could provide for me financially." She hoped he didn't take that the wrong way. "I'm a simple girl with simple tastes."

"Yes, well, tradition and all," he said.

"I understand. And tradition has been honored," she replied.

"Very well, how about a picnic next time? Say Sunday?"

Hermione smiled. "A picnic would be lovely. Oh, but I have some place to be at ten that morning. So how about mid-afternoon?"

"It's a date." Draco lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, bowing. "Until then, Hermione. Have a good night."

"You too, Draco," she replied. With that she stepped inside and closed the door.

In her bedroom, she lay down and stared a the ceiling. She knew Draco was like an aristocrat of the Wizarding world, but she hadn't realized just how gentlemanly he could be. Or intelligent, either. He could still be a right prat, though. But really, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Hermione fell asleep, both anticipating and dreading the arrival of Sunday.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: My apologies for the long delay. My only excuse is real life. Hopefully I'll get back to posting every couple of weeks now. Please read and review, let me know you're still happy to be reading my story. It's the only payment I get for all my work. Enjoy!**

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Chapter Ten: Draco

Draco was sound asleep until the dulcet tones of his mother screeching about some outrage woke him up. He tried to shut it out by stuffing his head under the pillow, but that did not work. Frustrated, he rolled over to his back, directly into a ray of sun shining through the part in his curtains. He raised a hand to block the light and scowled at the offending curtains. Didn't anyone realize it was Saturday, the day to sleep in and relax?

Giving up on more sleep, Draco got out of bed and headed to his bathroom to get ready for the day. The steam surrounded him in his shower, allowing him to relax and let his mind wander. The memory of the previous night made him smile.

It actually went better than he had anticipated, considering the history between the two of them. She had even said she had a good time. With a satisfied smirk, he confidently thought she would be accepting his proposal in no time.

He couldn't help but goad her once she started on her house elf bill of rights spiel. First of all, she was way off the mark with the wishes of the average house elf. Secondly, she was just so passionate about it. He'd never seen someone so intent on doing something _for_ other creatures. Growing up, it had always been someone intent upon doing something _to_ others. Luckily, she didn't get more than a little irritated with him. Though by her reaction, he assumed it had never occurred to her that house elves were actually happy with their standard of living.

Draco finished his shower, got dressed, and headed downstairs. In the breakfast room, he filled a plate from the buffet and sat down in his customary seat. Before he could he a single bite, however, his mother came storming in.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! What is the meaning of this?" she yelled and threw down the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The cover contained a large picture depicting Hermione climbing out of a taxi with Draco's assistance and a second one of them eating dinner.

With a sinking heart, Draco picked up the paper and scammed the article quickly. _Oh, this can _not_ be good_.

_Draco Malfoy Finds True Love in Hermione Granger?_

_by Rita Skeeter_

_With the new marriage law passed only six weeks ago, pureblood marriages are now a thing of the past. Yet the Ministry's goal of introducing new blood into Pureblood families has been significantly thwarted by the eligible Purebloods, who tend to choose half-blood spouses over Muggle-born ones. Many half-bloods are in fact descended, even if distantly, from Pureblood families._

_It is interesting, then, that Draco Malfoy, the longtime prince of the Purebloods and a Death Eater during the last war, was seen last night eating dinner at a _Muggle_ restaurant with none other than Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter, the-Boy-Who-Lived (twice) and the Muggle-born princess of Gryffindor._

_Not only were they eating dinner, but sources say Mr. Malfoy is in fact courting Ms. Granger according to traditional Pureblood practices. (See page 3 for an explanation of courting traditions.) _

"_Mr. Malfoy came to see me on Wednesday, inquiring if I had Ms. Granger's measurements and could I make her a formal Muggle style dress overnight," Madam Malkin said cheerfully. "He insisted that he had to give it to her the next day or his honor would be shamed. He dropped several galleons on it, too."_

_Upon further inquiry, Madam Malkin was pleased to inform us that Mr. Malfoy had also given her a look at a set of earrings and necklace he intended to gift Ms. Granger with as well. _

"_He told me it was a handmade one of a kind. I could tell almost immediately that it cost a knut or two."_

_One has to wonder with the expense of these items if Mr. Malfoy is merely following tradition or if he actually loves the somewhat plain and bookish Ms. Granger. "He came to visit her here at the office," one Ministry worker said. "No one even knew they were seeing each other. They must have had a quarrel though. She fired a curse at him and slammed her door as he left. The next day, he even sent her hyacinths." (See page 4 for an explanation of traditional wizarding practices.)_

Before Draco could finish the article, an owl flew in and landed in front of him. It was carrying a Howler. Draco groaned and reached for it, knowing it was pointless to wish his mother wasn't standing right beside him since she'd be able to hear the shouting from anywhere in the house anyway.

Resigned to the impending embarrassment, he opened the seal quickly, as if ripping off a Band-Aid, then crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair.

What erupted from the enchanted missive, however, was not what he had expected. Instead of Hermione yelling at him because the whole world was gossiping about their courtship, he was being chastised by an older with for even dreaming that he would be good enough for Hermione Granger and if he knew what was good for him, he would leave her alone.

While that Howler was going off, several other owls came in and dropped additional correspondence from across the wizarding world. A few were regular messages, but most appeared to be Howlers. These would spontaneously begin shouting when Draco was unable to open them in time, so that his whole house sounded as if it were full of hundreds of witches all shouting unintelligibly at each other trying to be heard over the din.

Draco resumed eating nonchalantly, doing his best to ignore the cacophony. He vaguely noticed his mother was also yelling at him, but had no idea what she was shouting as her voice was entirely drowned out by the Howlers. After only a few minutes, however, it became evident that there would be no end to the arriving howlers anytime soon, so he drained the last of his tea, stuffed the handful of non-shouting mail in his pocket, and then left his home.

Draco figured that if he had been pelted with "fan" mail, Hermione had as well. He should probably go see her, make sure she knew he had nothing to do with the article. Bu first, he thought a walk would do him some good, get the ringing out of his ears.

Although he had grown up in rural Wiltshire, he never went outside as a child except to fly his broom. But after the fall of Voldemort, and the isolation that followed as the wizarding world shunned the family of former Death Eaters, Draco had gradually begun to pass the lonely hours exploring his family's land.

It was an extensive property, totaling around six square miles of rolling hills and small forest remnants. The only building occupying the land was the manor, which appeared to Muggles to be a badly rundown castle that bad been razed during the civil war of the seventeenth century. They all thought it strange that the noble family who owned it never visited or tried to develop the land in anyway, but mostly just shrugged and muttered nonsense about the eccentricity of aristocrats.

The Malfoys _were_ actually entitled nobility, the Barons of Winterbourne Stoke, to be precise, but the title didn't count for anything among wizards and Draco's staunchly anti-Muggle forbears would never have admitted it. And anyway, the title was inherited through the female line, making it even less desirable of acknowledgement to the patriarchal minds of his ancestors.

Draco soon arrived at what he had come to think of as his quiet place. It was on the edge of the property, a bluff hidden from the rest of the property by a copse of trees, overlooking one of the neighboring farmer's horse pastures. He would sit there on nice days and watch the farmer's son give riding lessons to a group of children. In the next field over, the farmer grew some sort of crop that started out a greenish yellow and slowly turned to flaxen color as the summer progressed. Further off, he could sometimes see a woman, presumably the farmer's wife, hang laundry outside on warm, sunny days, and small children running here and there chasing a dog or one another.

Draco would never admit it out loud, but watching these Muggles made him think they weren't so bad. He even kind of envied their idyllic little existence sometimes.

As he sat down at the roots of his favorite tree, he was reminded of the mail he had brought with him by a rustling in his robe. He pulled out the handful of presumably benign missives and randomly opened one. He read a few lines and couldn't help but laugh out loud at its ridiculousness. The writer gushed ad nauseam throughout the entire letter about the redemptive virtues of true love. She thought it was just grand that two such opposites as him and Hermione could see beyond past actions and find love. The letter ended with the sage advice of never losing sight of the reason that brought them together because love would see them through all life's trials.

Draco wadded the parchment into a ball and threw it as far as he could. _Stupid witch_, he thought._ Thinks she knows everything._ He was almost afraid to open the other two now. The second letter was pretty much the same as the first, only a little less exuberant. Nevertheless, it went the way of the first.

The final letter turned out to be from Hermione. As Draco read it, his heart began to pound in his chest. _No, no, no, no, no,_ he thought. He reread the short letter quickly, hoping he had missed something, an explanation perhaps, but found nothing.

_Draco,_

_I'm sorry to do this in a letter, but I don't think we should continue this courtship. I'm sure you'll find someone else to marry soon._

_Yours,_

_Hermione Granger_

Draco frowned. He didn't know why she was doing this, but he was going to get some answers, and he was going to get them now. He stood, dusting off his robes, and apparated a short distance from Hermione's flat. Quickly, he walked down the street to her building and knocked on her door. No answer. He knocked again, paused, then knocked a third time and called out, "Hermione? It's Draco." Pause. "Hermione, open up. I got your letter. I don't understand what's going on" Still nothing, He went to knock a fourth time, but met with the same result.

He stood there thinking. "Potter, he'll know where she is," he said to no one in particular.

Draco glanced around, making sure no one was about, and then disapparated to Harry's neighborhood. He hurried to Harry's house, marched up to the door, and then pounded on it. He waited a few seconds and the impatiently knocked again.

The door suddenly jerked open, and Draco was stunned to see a wand pointed right at his face.


	11. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I promise I've been working on the next chapter, but I'm stuck on this one plot twist and haven't been able to figure it out yet. Then, yesterday, my laptop crashed and I've lost everything. I'm just glad I like to write on paper before typing up my chapters.**

**So it'll be a little while before I update again. But I don't want to lose my readers, so please put me or my story on alert so you'll know when I update again.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**K**


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Hermione

Hermione smiled as Draco approached her. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied and laid her hand in his as they walked out onto the ballroom floor.

She could not remember a time when she felt happier. And who would have thought she would find this happiness with Draco Malfoy of all people? She looked up at him and saw the same emotions reflected on his face. She'd be happy just to stay like this forever.

Suddenly Ron appeared as if out of nowhere. "Mind if I cut in?"

Hermione looked at Draco and nodded that it was okay. She switched partners and began dancing again. Just as she was about to say something to break the awkward silence between them, Ron interjected.

"What do you think you're doing Hermione? This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about here. He can't be trusted."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in anger. "Who I see is no longer any of your concern, Ronald. We broke up, and you are marrying Lavender, remember?"

"Like hell it's none of my business," Ron replied. "You're mine, remember? You said you'd always be mine."

Hermione struggled futilely to get out of his grip, but he just kept spinning her around faster and faster. "Let me go, Ronald Weasley."

Ron started to laugh as she continued to struggle. Suddenly his laugh became much more high pitched and had a hysterical note to it, causing Hermione to freeze in fear. She slowly looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing before her.

"So, you want to dance, do you, Mudblood?" Bellatrix summoned a staff and began beating it on the ground in time to the music. "Well then dance for us," she cackled and with a flick of her wand, Hermione had no choice but to do so, for she was under the Imperius curse.

As she continued to dance and spin, the tempo began to increase, as did the volume. She just kept spinning and dancing, and the music kept getting louder and faster. Hermione was growing weary, but she just could not stop.

Bellatrix raised her wand again. "And now, Mudblood, it's time to die. Avada Ka-"

Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed, a scream on her lips and her wand in her hand. Her chest heaved as the fear and adrenaline slowly faded away. "It was just a dream," she told herself. "Just a dream."

When she finally felt like she had regained her composure, she dragged herself out of bed for a long, hot shower. She allowed her thoughts to drift to her nightmare. It had certainly started out nicely, dancing with Draco, probably because her date with him had gone so well.

Which was surprising when she thought about it. She had not expected them to get along so well considering their history. Although he had given her grief over her belief in house elf rights. Truthfully, she was looking forward to their picnic on Sunday.

She exited the shower and got dressed. Just as she was leaving her bedroom, she heard a pecking at the window. She reached out and retrieved her morning edition of the Daily Prophet. After giving the owl a treat, Hermione glanced at the front page and almost fainted. There, in big bold letters, was the public announcement that she and Draco were _dating_! She looked for the by-line and was not surprised to see that it was by Rita Skeeter.

Oooohh, Hermione growled to herself, how she would _love_ to put that woman away permanently.

Before she could take that thought any further, she heard more pecking at the window. She was greeted by no less than three owls this time and could see more coming in the distance. Dozens more.

"What on earth…" she thought out loud.

She opened the window and the birds began a pile of letters on her bed. She grabbed one and quickly opened it only to wish she had not. The last thing she needed was someone else's opinion on her relationship with Draco Malfoy. _The__whole__lot__is__probably__more__of__the__same_, she thought.

She randomly selected another letter, then opened and read it. _Just__what__I__thought,__rubbish._ She grabbed another, then another, and another. All of them appeared to be full of the same stupid comments. Either the writer was hopelessly romantic, or indignant over the idea that she was a Muggleborn dating a Pureblood. It seemed everyone was conveniently forgetting that the Malfoys were social outcasts.

Hermione reached for one last parchment to indulge in before Banishing the lot of them. She fully expected to scoff at the writer, same as with the previous letters, but as she read the letter, she began to feel horrified and fearful.

_If you know what's good for you're parents, filthy Mudblood, you'll stay away from Draco Malfoy._

She noticed there was no signature, but that didn't surprise her.

She did not want to believe that someone would actually threaten her parents over something as silly as dating Draco Malfoy, but she was not about to take that chance. Hermione went to her fireplace and Flooed to Harry's, where she was greeted with Ginny's wand in her face.

"Hermione? I nearly cursed you! What are you doing here? What's wrong?" Ginny exclaimed, lowering her wand.

"Sorry, Ginny. Is Harry here?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, he's in our room. What's wrong?" Ginny asked again.

Instead of answering, Hermione just headed for the bedroom. "Harry?" she called out.

Harry came out of the bedroom, still buttoning his shirt. "Hermione? What are you doing here? I thought you would be visiting your parents right now. Is something wrong?"

She thrust the letter into Harry's face. "Someone is threatening my parents, Harry."

"Threatening your parents? Why would someone do that?" he asked, as he read over the short letter.

"Rita Skeeter found out I was seeing Draco and now it's all over the daily Prophet. You wouldn't believe the stack of 'fan mail' I got today. Haven't you read the paper yet today?"

"Not yet," he replied. "I don't get it. Why would someone threaten you or your parents over Draco Malfoy? No one even likes him anymore."

"I don't know. I'm sure it's just more Pureblood rhetoric or something," Hermione replied with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. "I'm not even sure I believe this is a real threat, but even if my parents were…well…They wouldn't be able to defend themselves against a fanatical witch or wizard. I don't want to take any chances. Is there anything you could do to help? Officially, I mean."

"Hmm. I'm not sure. But I'll take this down to the office and see what Robards says," he assured her. "In the meantime, why don't you go to St. Mungo's and make sure they're aware of the situation, okay?"

Hermione exhaled in relief and hugged Harry. "Thank you, Harry."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Now who could that be?" Harry wondered aloud.

Hermione shrugged and went to peak outside. "It's Draco! I wonder what he's doing here?" She turned and looked at Harry, who appeared deep in thought.

"Something's not right here. Keep your wand ready, just in case."

Hermione nodded her assent and followed him to the door. She slipped into the living room where she could cover him and see the door at the same time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny take up a similar position in the dining room opposite her.

Harry silently counted to three and threw open the door, wand at the ready. From her hiding spot, Hermione could see Draco's hands immediately raise up.

"Whoa there, Potter, easy. I'm just looking for Hermione. From your greeting and her letter, I'm assuming I've upset her somehow. She wouldn't happen to be here would she?"

Hermione's eyes widened in confusion. What letter? She hadn't sent any letters to Draco. She stepped forward and lowered Harry's wand, then pulled Draco inside quickly. "What are you talking about Draco? I haven't sent any letters to you"

Draco frowned. "Well I did think it rather odd that you were calling off the courtship already. But if you didn't send it, who did?"

"Let me see this letter, Draco," Hermione said. He handed it to her, and she could tell immediately that it wasn't even her handwriting and said as much. "It does look like the other one though, Harry."

She passed it on to Harry, who agreed with her. "I'll take this to the office, as well. See what the others can make of it," Harry said. "In the meantime, you should go check on your pa- um…" Harry trailed off suddenly and glanced over at Draco.

Hermione followed his glance and realized why he was hesitating. Did she really want Draco Malfoy of all people to know about her parents? _Not__especially_, she thought, though she supposed he was going to have to find out eventually since they were giving this whole courting thing a shot.

She sighed. "My parents," she finished for Harry.

Harry gave her a wordless look asking if she was sure this was what she really wanted to do. Hermione nodded, and he continued. "Right, let the Healers know about the threat and that the Aurors are looking into it. I'll come and explain things later when we know more."

Draco interrupted. "Wait, what threat?"

"I received a lot of 'fan mail' this morning regarding our date last night. One of the letters was a threat against my parents if I didn't stop seeing you," Hermione replied. "Maybe it's just more Pureblood rubbish, maybe not, but I can't take that chance."

"So why do we need to tell the Healers that someone's threatening your parents? They're Muggles. They wouldn't have anything to do with the Healers," Draco said.

"My parents are at St. Mungo's," Hermione said quietly. "In the Janus Thickey ward."


End file.
